


The Christmas Present

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Santa Claus, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Arthur Returns, Arthur reborn, Ice Skating, M/M, Magic Reveal, Modern Era, Reincarnation, gifts come with strings, santa claus isn't a nice person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28713768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: Merlin never gets Christmas cards, but when one shows up on his kitchen counter, he has to open it up.Or how gifts comes with strings and Santa Claus isn’t always a great guy and dealing with an Arthur reborn isn’t what Merlin thought it would be.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 57
Collections: Camelot Drabble — Prompt #439: Invite, Camelot Drabble — Prompt #441: Don't be cruel





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** NOT fluff, angsty as hell, Santa isn’t particularly nice here.  
>  **Author's Notes:** Unbetaed. I wanted this to be done by Christmas so yeah, didn’t happen. Sigh.

* * *

Merlin never got Christmas cards. When someone had lived as long as he had, after watching Christmas go from simple gift-giving to being banned altogether to the explosion of colour and lights and Santa Claus on every street corner, sending cards was the last thing on his mind.

He didn’t have anyone to send them to, anyway. The few acquaintances he knew would invite him to parties full of drinking and food and Secret Santa presents. He loved those. It made him feel part of a greater whole, but no one really knew him as Arthur had, and after a few centuries, it just didn’t make sense to try and make friends. They died. Turned to dust and sunk forgotten into history.

But lately, the people around him were insistent, somehow getting past his walls and it felt almost wonderful, so full of promise. The potential for friends again. In his heart, Merlin ached for it, even though he knew it was impossible.

Still, they wouldn’t have sent him a card. Instead, they would have texted or posted something on Facebook.

So, when a red envelope with a Merlin Emrys scrawled across it showed up, Merlin was confused. Everyone knew him as Merlin Hunithson. But while it sat there on his kitchen counter, like an accusation, curiosity took over and he opened it up.

“Ho, ho, ho,” it sung. “Merry Christmas, Merlin of Ealdor.”

Horrified, Merlin dropped it, his fingers tingling as he did. It lay there on the counter, singing to him. Finally, with much trepidation, Merlin shoved it back into the envelope and tossed it in the trash, hoping that was the last of it.

It wouldn’t stop singing. Even buried under the remnants of Merlin’s supper and used tea leaves, it kept serenading him.

Finally, ready with magic just in case, he dug past wet paper and smelly pasta, and opened the card up again.

“Ho, ho, ho, Merlin of Ealdor,” the card chanted. “You are invited to the North Pole to visit Santa Claus.”

Merlin stared down at the illustration of a jolly elf sitting by a Christmas tree trimmed in gold and red lights. Behind the elf—it looked a lot like the Santa Claus of Victorian England, a window was painted in exquisite detail, showing a snow-covered street, and an empty sleigh with one glowy-nosed reindeer waiting there.

When the elf winked at him, Merlin dropped the card again. It was obviously magic. Merlin had to wonder who it could be from. After all, as far as he knew, he was the only one left. Even all the talk of Santa being magic was just public relations crap. It was a nice fairy tale, but Santa Claus was really commercialism run amok. 

The animated elf pointed to the card’s window, illustrated snow fluttering down past the windowpane onto the street. “The sleigh awaits you below. Take it, follow the North Star, and before you know it, there you will be.”

Growing exasperated, Merlin asked, “Who are you? What are you?”

“You are not the only one with magic, Merlin Emrys. Santa wants a word.” The elf smiled and then nodded toward the window.

Good grief. Merlin was actually thinking about it. “How do I know you aren’t some kind of magical villain taking advantage of Christmas cheer?”

Pointing again at the window, little spot of light dancing across the card, the elf sung, “You won’t know until you find out. Your sleigh awaits.”

Well, Merlin didn’t have anything else to do. No Christmas tree to trim, no parties for a few days, and it was the most interesting thing to happen to him in a very long time. Nodding, grabbing his warmest coat, slinging a warm scarf around his neck, he picked up the card and said, “If this is some kind of magic trick, I warn you. I’m the greatest wizard of all time. Just F.Y.I.”

“Ho, ho, ho, Merlin of Ealdor. Fear not. For Santa is magic, too, bringing cheer to all the good little boys and girls.”

Merlin just rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been a boy for centuries, and as for good, well, Merlin didn’t want to think about that. He guessed he’d soon find out.


	2. Chapter 2

Surprisingly, there really was a Santa shop at the North Pole. Never mind that it was North Pole, Alaska, but still it was the real Santa Claus.

Merlin could feel the magic coming off the workshop a mile away. In fact, he assumed it was all hidden because ordinary people were just hurrying around outside the compound, paying no attention to the gaudy candy-cane coloured buildings, the pen full of reindeer talking among themselves in English—and shouldn’t it be in Finnish or something?, and all the elves bustling about. 

Once the sleigh landed, the card kept directing him here and there, through toy assembly lines and dancing piles of sweet treats. There was a chocolate river and peppermint sticks popping up as Merlin walked past and it was everything that any kid could have imagined. A wonderland of abundance and beauty, full of sweet songs and potential.

But Merlin wasn’t a kid, hadn’t been in centuries, and he hadn’t felt so much magic around him in all that time. He’d forgotten just how wonderful it could be. And he wondered why he’d not known about the North Pole and the reality of Santa Claus. It was just a myth, wasn’t it?

He would soon find out.

The card sang a final, “You are here.” Then it disappeared into little red stars and floated away.

The door was ordinary, old wood with a stained-glass window at the top, and a sign that said, “Enter at your peril. 4 days until Christmas.”

Well, Merlin had come far, and he might as well get it over with. Besides, he was curious.

Merlin reached out to knock, but from inside, a deep voice rang out, “Don’t just stand there, come in, come in.”

Santa Claus was everything Merlin expected. Rotund, clad in red and white, the man smiled as Merlin walked in and closed the door behind him. A snowy beard, although Merlin could see a bit of candy cane stuck to one side of it. His eyes looked kind of twinkly.

But then looks were deceiving. A friendly face could hide a lot of malevolence. There didn’t seem to be any evil that Merlin could sense, but he was cautious as he said, “You wanted to see me?”

Santa Claus smiled. “You are not as I pictured you. Where is your long beard and ragged clothes?”

“I left them at my flat?” Merlin said. He wasn’t sure if he should be cheeky with whoever this was, but he’d give it a try and see what would happen.

“Well, I guess you can’t believe everything Disney puts in films. I suppose you don’t live backwards in time?” Santa said.

“Nope, just forwards. Not Doctor Who either so one body, no regenerating every time I have a hangnail.” Merlin gave him a gormless grin. Better to seem innocuous and let people underestimate him.

For a minute, Santa just stared at him, then waved his hand at the chair across from him. The presents on the chair danced out of the way, and as Merlin sat down, a mug of hot chocolate appeared next to him. It smelled delicious. Merlin didn’t touch it, though.

Finally, Santa said, “Have you been a good boy this year?”

Merlin just stared at him. “I thought you knew everything. You see them while they’re sleeping, you know when they’re awake. You know when they’ve been bad or good, and so on. Shouldn’t you know the answer to that question?”

“I do, but do you?” Santa said.

It was a very odd thing to say and really the whole thing felt weird. Merlin said, “I haven’t killed anyone recently if that’s what you are asking.”

“When was the last time you did that?” Santa took a sip of his hot chocolate, then discovering the candy cane in his hair, pulled it out and put it aside. Perhaps for later?

“1945. Final German push. My platoon was being gunned down and I… got angry.” Merlin shouldn’t have felt ashamed about it. After all, he’d killed a lot of people over the centuries, either in self-defence or because he was protecting someone but still, murder was murder. He never really came to grips with what he’d done. He just ignored it as he had so many other things. 

“And what will you say to your Arthur when he asks you what you’ve been doing all these centuries?” Santa said, not unkindly but still it cut Merlin to hear it.

“Waiting for him,” Merlin said, his voice sharp. “Look, why am I here?”

Santa took a sip of his hot chocolate, then said, “We’ve… ah… had a conference about you, me and my elves.” When Merlin scowled at him, Santa merely smiled as if he’d expected no less. “Today is Winter Solstice after all, the time of rebirth, and Christmas is a few days away. We thought we’d give you a gift.”

That sounded ominous. “A gift?” Once, Merlin had thought destiny was a gift and look how that turned out.

Nodding, Santa said, “You have been so patient over the centuries and it’s taken a toll on you. I can see it in your eyes. The gods of the Old Religion may have tied your fate to Arthur’s, and while we can’t change that, for your good works and kind heart, we have agreed that you deserve a Christmas present.”

Merlin shrugged. He was certainly no saint and good was relative after all. “I’ve been helping out at the shelter. Lots of people do. It’s no big deal.”

“But you’ve been using your powers to heal them, haven’t you, even to the point of exhaustion?” Santa said, gently.

It didn’t matter what he did. If he helped someone, at least they were happy and a little of the guilt of Arthur’s death eased for a time. “I have nothing better to do with my time. I’m not that important. You should give gifts to people who really deserve it.”

“Do you not want it?” Santa put down his mug and leaned forward, watching Merlin with intent eyes.

“Usually gifts come with strings,” Merlin said.

Santa Claus seemed taken aback at that. “Not always.”

“I’ve learned to be cautious.” Merlin could see that Saint Nick or Father Christmas or whoever was upset at Merlin’s attitude and he guessed that from his perspective, Merlin was being obnoxious and not very nice. He wasn’t really, not nice, certainly not good enough for gifts. But since Santa seemed sincere at least on the outside, Merlin gave in. Trying to give Saint Nick or whoever this was the benefit of the doubt, with a bit of cheek, Merlin said, “What kind of gift? Can I return it if it doesn’t fit?”

“It must be returned at the stroke of midnight on Christmas eve. For Christmas day, the gift will be needed elsewhere.” Santa wasn’t playing. He seemed to be intent on making sure Merlin knew that it wasn’t a present he could keep.

“Well, that was not very helpful,” Merlin said, sarcasm hard in his voice.

“Merlin of Ealdor, son of Hunith, Emrys, your gift will arrive tomorrow morn. Whether you return it early or not is up to you.” Santa said, again. “But remember, the stroke of midnight on Christmas eve will see the gift disappear for it is needed elsewhere after.”

Apparently, whatever the gift was, it was very, very important and Merlin wasn’t good enough to keep it. Shrugging because it didn’t matter anyway, Merlin said, “Got it. A gift I can’t keep. Gone by Christmas day. Great.”

“I hope it brings you joy.” As Santa nodded, he waved his hand in the general direction of the door. “The hot chocolate is yours and there will be a plateful of cookies when you return.” Then he looked down at his list, picking up another candy cane—thankfully the one that had been residing in his beard was flicked into the waste basket, and popping it into his mouth. “Now off with you. I’ve toys to oversee and lists to check twice.”

He was dismissed, just like that. His back up a little, Merlin said, “Okay… and if my gift needs batteries, can I get them at Tesco or do I need to contact you? And my size is medium, by the way.”

In the blink of an eye, Merlin was back home, standing by his kitchen counter. On it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a plate full of colourful cookies. In his ear, he could hear the remnants of “Ho, ho, ho.”

Well, that went over well. At least Merlin got cookies out of it. And they were quite delicious.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin didn’t take lovers. Once, long ago, he had gone through dozens, chasing pleasure when the person he really wanted was dead and gone. The sex was great but there were no connections, and when he finally woke one day covered in fluids he’d rather not think about, he stopped entirely. His hand was quite enough, and at least there, he had no expectations of more.

When he woke up the morning after that odd trip/dream/vision, he was surprised to have an arm flung over his chest and someone breathing in his ear. Twisting away, he fell onto the floor, then as he scrambled up, rubbing his hip, he shouted at the man, “Who the hell are you? I….”

Staring down at the blonde head and half-lidded blue eyes blinking back at him, Merlin stopped breathing altogether.

Oh, the gods were trying to drive him mad.

As Arthur pulled himself up a little, leaning on his elbows, he muttered, “Did you know you’re naked? Honestly, Merlin, no wonder your feet are like ice.”

“Arthur? What… what?” Merlin stammered.

It couldn’t be. Arthur looked like he always did, so alive, so vibrant, so insulting.

“Spit it out, you idiot. You look like a startled stoat.” Turning onto his side, still leaning on one elbow, Arthur smirked, then shook his head. “It’s not a good look.” 

“Stoats are cute, unlike a certain king I know,” Merlin said. “Is it really you?” Merlin leaned over, poking at Arthur’s shoulder.

When Arthur shoved back, hard enough that Merlin flailed backward before regaining his balance, Arthur gave a little sigh. Sitting up, arranging the sheets around him, it was clear Merlin wasn’t the only naked one. “Merlin, much as I enjoy our little talks, could you tell me where my clothes are? And why we aren’t in my chambers, although you naked in my chambers and my bed… well that is horror enough but still… you are so….” Arthur looked him up and down, a flash of interest shining in his eyes before he shook it off. “You aren’t eating enough, are you? Honestly, Merlin, if I wasn’t around to hound you into taking care of yourself, I don’t know what you’d do.”

Remembering all the long years and how sometimes he’d not eat for days because why bother, hearing Arthur with worry in his voice no matter how much he tried to disguise it, Merlin let out a little sob.

He couldn’t seem to process that Arthur was really there, not some figment of his imagination or a wonderful dream that he’d wake up from soon enough.

He did what anyone would do. Merlin pinched himself. It hurt so it wasn’t a dream or imagination—unless he was dreaming that it stung. His head was a mess trying to figure out if it was real or not.

“Merlin, have you gone completely nonsensical, hurting yourself like that?” Arthur looked around, frowning as he took it all in. “Whose room is this? It certainly isn’t in Camelot.”

Merlin almost ran over to him to give him a hug. Wanted to with every fibre of his being, but he didn’t think Arthur would appreciate it if it was really him. Instead, shoving himself into yesterday’s clothes, then rummaging through his other cleaner things to find something for Arthur to wear, he said, “What do you remember?”

“I… that’s odd. I don’t know.” Arthur sat there, biting at his lip, looking at the t-shirt Merlin had given him as if he didn’t know what to make of it, then shrugging and putting it on. “I think… the castle, my knights, being crowned king, Gwen, you.” He looked up, gazing at Merlin. “You told me something important but I… why don’t I remember?”

Sitting down next to Arthur, Merlin said, “Do you remember Camlann at all? Or the sorcerer who saved Camelot?”

“There was a battle… a sword thrust… I… I was injured, wasn’t I?” At that, Arthur frowned, pulling up the t-shirt a little to look at his chest. A puckered scar where Mordred’s blade had gone in, and long healed. “I remembered… you… you were afraid of me? Why would you be? I’d never hurt you.”

Merlin wasn’t sure he should say anything, but after all, it really was probably just a dream. What could he lose? It was not as if this Arthur could cut Merlin’s head off or burn him at the stake.

As Merlin handed him underwear and a soft pair of joggers, he said, as casually as he could, “And my magic?”

“You don’t have magic. Don’t be ridiculous.” Arthur looked offended, as if he thought Merlin was lying to him and doing a poor job of it.

But, to Merlin, it meant that Arthur didn’t remember their last few days together. He didn’t remember forgiving Merlin and telling him to never change and especially in those last desperate moments, having Merlin cradle him in his arms.

The most precious memories he had, and this Arthur knew nothing of it.

But he wasn’t going to go through that again, all the pain, all the anger, it didn’t matter. Merlin was dreaming, right?

Shaking off the sudden fury at whatever the fake Santa was playing at, Merlin said, “Are you hungry? I can make you eggs and sausage while you get dressed.”

Arthur nodded, then looked around. “Ah, where’s the chamber pot?”

Well, this should be fun. Merlin said, “Umm… follow me.”

They both trudged into the loo. Merlin explained a bit, then flushed it, just to make sure Arthur understood.

Frowning, Arthur looked around at the loo, the sink with running water, the shower. “Everything just disappears? Isn’t that magic?”

Merlin gave a little chuckle. “Nope, science. It has to do with pipes and water flow and sewage systems. We don’t throw our waste out into the streets anymore, either. A lot of things have changed.” He nodded toward the loo. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Come into the kitchen when you’re done.”

Wanting to stay, thinking that if he left Arthur alone for a moment, he’d disappear, or worse yet, Merlin would wake up from whatever this was, still he had to clear his head. But cooking the sausages, watching them bubble and burn, didn’t help. He just kept pushing them around in the pan, staring into nothingness, as he thought and thought and came up with a thousand scenarios of what was going on.

Finally, Arthur, his hair wet, looking thoroughly delectable, shuffled into the kitchen and sat down. He looked so very real and Merlin wanted to smash something, anything, to prove that it wasn’t a dream. All the love and longing and fear was swirling around somewhere in his chest and it didn’t help that this Arthur looked a little bit lost.

As Merlin slid the sausages, the non-burnt ones, onto Arthur’s plate, the burnt ones onto his own, and then started cooking eggs, Arthur said, “Where is everyone? Why aren’t we in Camelot?”

Over the sizzle of eggs, Merlin shrugged. He didn’t look at Arthur as he said, “Well, it’s been a while since your death.”

“My what?” The horror in Arthur’s voice made Merlin turn around, eggs be damned.

Trying to keep his tone matter of fact, plain and flat and as dry as possible, Merlin replied, “You died at Camlann and the Sidhe were supposed to take care of you until Albion’s greatest need but…”

Arthur’s eyes were narrowing as he interrupted, “Merlin, you are talking nonsense. I didn’t die. I’m right here.”

Merlin slid the somewhat cooked eggs onto Arthur’s plate, then sat down next to him. He tried to be patient, but all he could feel was growing anger. “I’m not sure you are. Santa Claus said I’d be getting a gift and you… you are all I ever wanted, and it seems a cruel joke, doesn’t it?”

“Merlin, I’m right here. Have you been at the tavern again? I swear I’ll close the damn place. They shouldn’t be serving you if you are as addled as this.” Arthur looked at him as if he were worried about Merlin. He’d seen that look before and it always made Merlin love Arthur more.

Shoving that feeling aside, Merlin said, “Not the tavern. Although maybe I am dreaming. I pinched myself already but maybe I dreamed I pinched myself.” Arthur reached over and clipped Merlin upside the head. “Ow.”

“Serves you right. I’m right here, wherever here is, and you are as real as I am. So, stop talking idiotic nonsense and think about getting us home.” Then staring at Merlin, Arthur bit into the sausage and chewed.

“There is no home, not anymore.” Camelot had turned into ruins long ago.

Merlin did have a car so he could escape when the city got to be too much for him, and drive into the wild countryside to let go of his magic or rage at Arthur for dying. But driving to a tumbled down ruin in the middle of nowhere wasn’t high on Merlin’s to-do list, especially in winter.

The whole thing was guaranteed to be awful. Either Arthur was real and seeing Camelot gone would be devastating to him, or Arthur wasn’t real, and Merlin would rage against his fate yet again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go through either of them. 

“Merlin, stop being a cabbage-head. Of course, there is. Just because we are in some kind of odd dwelling doesn’t mean Camelot is gone. Arrange for horses and we’ll leave after breakfast.”

Horses, oh, dear. Well, at least Merlin could mock Arthur for being a coward. It would be not fun but a new experience seeing how this fake Arthur would react to driving.

“Fine. I’ll find some boots for you and a coat and we’ll be off,” Merlin said. He ate his mostly burnt sausages and tried not to think about the rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur took it better than Merlin thought, at least the driving part. After asking if it was magic, Arthur sat there, staring out the windshield, his fists white-knuckled, his face as pale as Merlin had ever seen him. Merlin chattered away, mostly to fill the silence with something. He turned the radio on, listened to one Christmas song after another, then finally turned it off when ‘ _All I want for Christmas is You’_ came on, singing of happier times and love.

“Is that magic? Where are the musicians?” Arthur asked again.

Merlin started to tell him about radio and recordings and electricity, but Arthur’s eyes glazed over, and Merlin finally just said, “Science.”

“Seems everything that should be magic isn’t. Where did the magic go? Did we defeat it after all?” Arthur said, sounding as if he were happy about such a thing.

Merlin wanted to turn Arthur into a toad and see how he liked being cold and warty. But instead, gripping the steering wheel as if he were about to strangle it, grinding his teeth, Merlin said, “Magic is part of the earth, the sea and the sky. It is woven into the very fabric of the world. You can no more defeat it than stop the waves from hitting the shore.”

“Then where is it?” Arthur scowled at Merlin. “Surely, if it were still here, we’d see it being used. Monsters and sorcerers and destruction.”

A good question. Merlin knew that there were magic users scattered in the world and hot spots of power, but most people didn’t believe in it anymore. Often as not, they would use science as the reason for what they had experienced and forget about it after. “It is in hiding, waiting for the return of the Once and Future King, waiting to join with him and save the world.”

“Save the world? With magic? Surely not.” Arthur looked around, watching the trees flick by, looking out at the blue sky and seeing only ordinary things.

“The world has been in trouble for more than a thousand years, but I only know the legend. I don’t know what the problem would be or when the awaited king would return. But legends usually have some basis in fact.” Merlin turned into the small car park. “We’re here.”

The castle was in ruins, the turrets still vaguely there, hints of what it had been. Most of the surrounding countryside was forested again. Only a small village remained close to the grassy areas maintained by English Heritage. But the bones of the past remained. Even the village cottages hinted of ancient glory.

“This isn’t Camelot. It’s just ruins.” Arthur frowned, blinking up at the stones. “This isn’t funny, Merlin. Take me to Camelot.”

“Look around, Arthur. See how the hills are the same. The basic structure remains.” Merlin pointed to the staircase. Some of the carvings there had resisted the destruction of time and neglect. “If you like, we can walk around, see if you can spot anything that might be familiar.”

Arthur grew silent after that, walking through remembered corridors, touching stonework from long ago.

Merlin used to visit the castle a lot over the centuries. But finally, he couldn’t bear it any longer. The memories hurt too much. Now, he only stopped at the castle once or twice a year on special occasions and at the Lake of Avalon on the anniversary of Arthur’s death. Waiting, waiting.

“I knew Morgana was powerful but this, I had no idea she could do this. Merlin, we need to rebuild it, for my people.” Arthur sounded determined.

But Merlin shook his head. “Arthur, Morgana’s been dead for centuries. This isn’t deliberate, it’s just old.”

“No, I refuse to believe it. It can’t have been that long ago surely.” Arthur looked around, then sat down on a nearby wall, the small carving of a winged beast that had once graced the Great Hall lying next to it.

Merlin didn’t say anything. Arthur wouldn’t believe him anyway. He needed to come to the right conclusion on his own.

Luckily it was a nice day after the snowfall of yesterday. Most of the snow had melted, and the birds were winging away in the warmer air. There was life there in the castle, but only tourists and staff. At night, Merlin assumed the local boys would come to try and spook their dates talking about ghosts and legends and King Arthur. But only stories and tumbled stones remained.

Arthur’s face hardened as he looked around, and finally, he said, “Let’s go. There is nothing for me here.”

Merlin just nodded.

* * *

Arthur didn’t say anything as they drove back to Merlin’s flat. There was a lot of holiday traffic on the road, and it took longer than Merlin had expected. But he didn’t want to bring up the obvious, so he just let things slide.

When they got back to the flat, Merlin made sandwiches, and pushed one over to Arthur. Looking down at it, Arthur said, “How long has it been?”

Merlin wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t understand the question. “Fourteen hundred and eighty-three years, three months, and four days.”

Arthur stared at Merlin, then said, “I assume you are reborn like me.”

Shaking his head, Merlin said, “Nope, I’ve been alive the whole time. Seen a lot of death and destruction, lost friends over and over. Then this Santa Claus gave me a gift of seeing you again. The only thing I ever truly wanted.” Merlin hesitated but thought that it was best to pull off the bandage and let the truth fly free. “I’m still not sure you aren’t just an illusion. But it’s lasted a long time so it might be that you really are here.”

Sounding furious, Arthur said, “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin, of course, I’m here. Illusions don’t feel hunger or need to pee or sleep or wonder just how someone could live for so long.”

“It’s not like I asked to be around for centuries. I thought it would be a week at most. I’m not exactly thrilled about it,” Merlin snapped back.

“And how did you stay alive all this time?” Arthur asked. His scowl deepened, and Merlin thought that Arthur finally might have got a clue.

“I told you before you died, I told you this morning, and I’m telling you now. I have magic. I was born with it. I’ve always had it and if you don’t like it, well then it’s just too bad.” Merlin stepped back a little as Arthur jerked, looking like he’d been struck.

“I thought it was just science. Everything you’ve shown me, you told me it was science, like Gaius’s, only more. And now you are telling me it’s not?” Arthur stood up, backing away from Merlin. He looked furious and worried and kept glancing around as if trying to find a weapon or an exit or someway to protect himself from the evil sorcerer.

“Most of it _is_ science, you clotpole. You think I’m going to waste my magic on loos?” Merlin glared at him. “Okay, so yeah, the cars could be magic except they aren’t, they’re just electricity and gasoline and mechanical things. And the fridge could be and the internet—which I haven’t shown you yet, and a lot of other things could be explained by magic, but they aren’t. But I am. I am magic. I always have been. And if you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourself.”

Merlin knew he wasn’t being reasonable. After all, Arthur only just woken up and it was so very foreign to everything he’d ever known that his reaction was predictable. But, bloody hell, Merlin had hoped for a joyous reunion, not one with them screaming at each other.

Looking around, Arthur picked up the fire poker, then brandishing it, he said, “So you lied to me for all those years, pretending to be an inept fool so you could deceive me and use magic to take over the kingdom.”

“Yeah, sure, be that way.” Merlin scowled at him. “Or didn’t you ever notice that I didn’t take over anything? I washed your stinky socks and saved your life so many times I lost count but yeah, I ruled the kingdom and kept you in the dungeons and drank your wine and ate your sausages and taunted you when I threw rotten vegetables at you all those times you were in the stocks.”

“I was never in the stocks, you idiot,” Arthur said, looking at Merlin as if he’d lost his mind. “What are you talking about?”

“Nice of you to notice, _sire_ ,” Merlin sighed. “I never wanted to rule. I never wanted anything other than to be your friend and help you whenever I could, but you were so pig-headed about the evils of magic that you never noticed it could be used for good. And here we are. Because my life has been shit and lonely as hell, but sure, it’s all about you.”

Arthur stood there, looking at Merlin as if he didn’t know what to do. Finally, lowering the poker but not letting it go, Arthur said, “I need to think about this. Leave me.”

“It’s my flat,” Merlin snapped, then knowing that Arthur could use some time alone, Merlin said, “Look, I know it’s a lot what with the years and finding out—again about my magic. I won’t prevent you from leaving, but you don’t know your way around and it’s getting colder. I need to get food anyway so I’ll go out for a while so you can have time to think about things. You can use my study if you like. There’s a sofa in there that can be used as a fold-out bed, too. I’ll be an hour or so. Will that be enough?” 

Arthur nodded.

Putting on his coat, shoving his feet back into boots, Merlin said, “Arthur, I… I never wanted to hurt you. I hope you’ll still be here when I get back, but I’ll understand if you aren’t. Just… just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Arthur nodded again.

As Merlin left the flat, he tried hard not to cry. He just hoped Arthur would realise that Merlin was ever his friend. But it didn’t look things would end well. 

* * *

At least Arthur was still there when Merlin got back, even if Arthur was shut up in the study.

Merlin picked up fish and chips for supper. He didn’t want to introduce Arthur to the joys of foreign cuisines just yet but when he put down the takeaway and called out for Arthur to come get his food, he was met with a muffled ‘not now’.

Not knowing what else to do, he put Arthur’s plate of food on the floor by the door and left it there.

Then he settled into the lounge, put on the telly, ate the food without tasting it and drank copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn’t what he’d wanted, but maybe it was for the best. Even if Arthur wasn’t an illusion, he’d be leaving in a few days if Santa’s admonition was to be believed. Besides, Merlin had already had his heart broken so many times it was a wonder it beat at all. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

At least the wine was good.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin woke with a head about five times its size, at least that’s how it felt. His mouth tasted of dead ferrets. He was never good with alcohol although he had tried to drown his sorrows for a couple of decades before giving up. Gaius had been right. He was too much of a lightweight and it always led to a morning-after that wasn’t particularly pleasant.

It didn’t help that Arthur was sitting across from him and the sword that Merlin had had hanging up in the study in his hand. Arthur didn’t look like he’d got much sleep, either, with dark circles under his eyes and a pale unhappy face.

At least Arthur hadn’t tried to kill Merlin during the night. Not that it would have made a difference. Merlin had learned long ago that he would die and wake up a few days later in a lot of pain but still alive. It was annoying and often horrifying. Getting burned at the stake was pretty excruciatingly painful although the drawn and quartered thing topped the list. Merlin learned to hide better after that.

“I see you found your sword. It’s only your second best one as I threw Excalibur into the Lake of Avalon for safe keeping. You know, in case you came back,” Merlin said, giving a sigh as he did.

Arthur just scowled at him. “You threw my sword in a lake? Are you completely insane?”

Grimacing, Merlin said, “Hey, it seemed a good idea at the time. It was magical after all and only you are supposed to wield it. And you were fucking dead.”

“Yeah, about that. So, this Santa brought me back to life?” Arthur was still frowning but at least he wasn’t trying to jab Merlin with the sword.

“Santa Claus is a magical elf. He brings toys and wishes to all the good girls and boys of the world and does it in a single night. Which is pretty magical, if you ask me.” Merlin gave Arthur a tentative smile, although truth be told, it was more of a grimace. “He starts showing up a few centuries after your death so that’s why you’ve not heard of him. But he’s always on the good side of magic so there is that.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur said, “Why am I here, Merlin? What possible reason could this magical elf want me alive now and not a thousand years ago?”

“Fourteen hundred eighty-three years, three months, five days,” Merlin snapped. When Arthur blinked at the anger in Merlin’s voice, Merlin sighed, running his fingers through his hair and biting his lip in frustration. “Look, I don’t know why. I’ve been begging the gods for your return since the day you left me. But it’s not like it’s permanent. It’s only until midnight tomorrow when I lose you all over again.”

“Merlin, I… I’m going to die tomorrow night?” Arthur didn’t sound thrilled about it and Merlin didn’t blame him one bit.

“I don’t know if it’s dying or just that he is coming to take you away from me. It’s a hell of a fucking gift if I lose you again.” Merlin looked away, down at his hands, blinking at sudden tears. “I don’t know if I can take it if… what have I done to deserve this?”

“I’m the one who is going to die, Merlin,” Arthur pointed out.

“We don’t know that. He said something about you being needed elsewhere, whatever the hell that means. But it didn’t sound like dying, more like… I have no idea.” He ran his fingers through his hair again, tugging a little, trying to tamp down the frustration and fear in his chest.

“Can’t you contact this person and ask or use the… what did you call it? The internet?” Arthur said.

Merlin shook his head. “He said to contact him only if I wanted to return you.”

Letting out an annoyed cough, Arthur scowled at him. “Return me? I’m not a horse you no longer want or a tunic that doesn’t fit. Returnable? I’ll have you know I am a king. It is I who returns things. I am not someone to be shuffled around like an unwanted sock.”

“Well, I don’t want to return you, you arse.” Merlin growled at him, then with a heavy sigh, he said, “Look, I can try and contact him, but I’ll have to use magic to do it. Are you okay with that?”

“Does it matter what I think?” Arthur pointed out, sounding like the prat Merlin knew him to be, all imperious and condescending.

Eyes narrowed, Merlin didn’t quite shout but it was a near thing. “You know, I don’t know why I like… gah. You are a complete dollophead. We’d have all be better off if I’d turned you into a toad the first time I met you.” Merlin stood up, throwing off the blanket, then began to pace, throwing his arms about like a mad thing. “Look, I’m magic, I always was, I always will be. I use magic to wash the dishes and vacuum the rugs and find my car keys. I used magic to wash your stinky socks back in the day. I used magic to break tree branches to keep the bandits from skewering you with their swords. I used magic every single damn day I knew you so get over it.”

He ended up towering over Arthur who had been watching him stomping around.

“Merlin…” Arthur said, sounding as if he were trying to stop Merlin’s tirade but Merlin wasn’t quite done.

“So I didn’t tell you. Big deal. I liked my head where it was, on my fucking shoulders. Your father would have gutted me on the spot, and you’d have cheered him on so don’t tell me that I was wrong to keep it a secret.”

“Merlin…” Arthur said again, then putting the sword aside, stood up.

“What?!” Merlin didn’t back away, though. He was still mad as hell.

“It’s hard, you know, to overturn a lifetime of thinking magic was evil. So, forgive me if I’m not onboard with all this. But I’m trying,” Arthur said, his voice softer, more understanding.

“What?” Merlin didn’t know what to think but his anger began to leach away.

Reaching over and putting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, giving him a little shake, Arthur said, “I’ll listen if you want to tell me about it… about your… magic. Just… just don’t expect me to throw you a feast to celebrate.”

“Really?” Merlin smiled, leaning into Arthur’s grip, his relief growing as they stood there.

“Don’t make me regret this. If you are evil, I will know it. I’ve seen enough of it with Morgana.” Arthur finally let go and stepped back, staring at Merlin as if daring him to fuck up.

“You aren’t such a cabbagehead after all. Still an arse, though,” Merlin said, his grin widening.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Arthur said.

“Not your servant anymore, my lord,” Merlin reminded him.

Arthur just shook his head. “I thought you said you’d be glad to be my servant until the day you died.”

At that, Merlin gave up whatever game they were playing at, and just nodded, saying with everything in him, “Always.” Arthur must have heard how much love was in a single word because he didn’t mock Merlin back, just nodded as if accepting the vow.

Folding up the blanket, putting it to one side, Merlin said, “So how about breakfast, then I show you the internet after I clean up? And I’ll try and figure out how to contact Santa.”

“Don’t burn the sausages this time.” Arthur said, a bit of mockery in his voice.

Merlin put his hand to his chest, staggering backwards as if the insult had wounded him. “Never! My sausages are always perfect.”

“Idiot….” Arthur just rolled his eyes, but there was warmth there and the hints of renewed friendship. It was good enough of a new beginning for Merlin. 

* * *

Santa Claus wouldn’t answer any of his questions. Merlin sent him a letter by magic, but it came back with a note on it saying that he was busy making his toys and he’d get back to him on Christmas eve. No clarification about what would happen to Arthur afterwards, but Merlin had a few tricks up his sleeve. He wasn’t about to lose Arthur now that he’d found him again. And if he had to fuck over Santa Claus or Father Christmas or Saint Nicholas or whoever the hell he was, then he would do whatever it took.

* * *

Arthur being Arthur started planning a campaign to find out why he was there. Merlin showed him how the internet worked. Of course, Merlin could have told him it was magic, but he didn’t want to lie anymore so he patiently went through the basics, comparing the screen to the page of a book, the keys on the keyboard to a kind of writing, and Wikipedia to a vast library much larger than Geoffrey’s.

Arthur nodded and seemed to be really okay with it but refused to touch the keyboard anyway. Demanding that Merlin do all the work, passing it off as something a servant should do and not a king, it was clear he was not willing to believe that it wasn’t magic.

Merlin understood that. It would certainly seem like magic to anyone not used to modern technology. Arthur was taking it surprisingly well, considering. And honestly, Merlin loved the closeness, with Arthur hovering behind him, pointing out issues and asking a million questions about history and kingly lines of succession and problems currently facing the world.

It didn’t help that Merlin could feel the warmth of his touch as Arthur pressed forward, the way Arthur breathed when he got excited about something or other, the sound of his voice in Merlin’s ear. All too often or maybe not often enough, Arthur would grab Merlin’s shoulder as he pointed something out on the screen, and Merlin tried not to lean into it or let his head fall back onto Arthur’s chest.

Merlin had it bad even before Arthur died all those centuries ago, all that love and longing and hunger for something more. After Arthur was gone, Merlin tried to fight it. Early on, Merlin figured Arthur would go back to Gwen when he came back from the Sidhe, but then as the years passed and everyone he knew turned to dust, love didn’t seem all that relevant. After all, Arthur wasn’t there and what Merlin felt for him didn’t matter. He learned to live with the hopelessness of it. Until now.

Now, he had an Arthur that smelled like him, insulted Merlin as he always did, grinned at him, scowled at him, and it was everything Merlin had hoped for and dreaded in equal measure. He was thrilled that Arthur was back, but Merlin wasn’t sure he could survive Arthur leaving him, not again.

But he didn’t tell Arthur anything of what he was feeling. After all, Arthur had never shown any inclination to want a man in that way, and especially not with Merlin. Friendship at best and contempt at worst.

Merlin would have to lock away the longing in his heart yet again and keep it there. He would need to be the friend that Arthur wanted and nothing more.


	6. Chapter 6

After a couple of hours, they were no closer to finding out what Santa Claus wanted with Arthur and Merlin was hungry again. So instead of staying around the flat, he thought it might be a good idea to show Arthur a little bit of the town, to get him used to the modern world, just in case.

The air had turned cold again and there were pockets of snow here and there. Merlin didn’t live in London. No matter how many years had passed, he hadn’t wanted to be far from Camelot or Avalon even if he didn’t visit them that often. It was more of a comfort thing, to give him a sense of belonging as everything crumbled around him. He lived in Bristol, in the penthouse flat of the block he owned, close enough to the ancient centre to enjoy the amenities and the history of the place, without the nosy neighbours of a smaller town. 

Since it was almost Christmas—and Merlin tried not to think about what that would mean for tomorrow night, Merlin thrust Arthur into a heavy coat and boots, and showed him a little bit of the city. There was a Christmas market a few streets over and Arthur seemed to delight in it.

“Reminds me of the lower town, small shops and goods from all over,” Arthur said, picking up a small ceramic Santa and looking at the label underneath before putting it down again. “Made in China? And ten pounds. Seems a bit exorbitant even from so far away. It must be rare indeed.”

“That’s just junk, Arthur. We get things from all over the world, but there are local merchants, too.” Merlin tugged him out of the shop and down to the hot chocolate vendor. “Here, try this. It’s a bit different than anything you’ve tasted before.”

Arthur’s eyes bulged as he took a sip. Then another. “This is… ambrosia indeed.”

“Chocolate from the mountains of Guatemala,” Merlin said, watching as Arthur seemed confused. “From Central America, across the sea. It’s mixed with… it doesn’t matter. I do love it, though, and I thought you might, too.”

Arthur just nodded, slurping away at his drink. Merlin had to grin. He always liked surprising Arthur with things, and it was even better when Arthur got that soft look on his face.

Pulling him through the market, grabbing a couple of pasties fresh and hot to eat as they wandered around, Merlin spied the pop-up ice rink and decided that Arthur could use a bit of exercise. He’d always been active. Being cooped up in the flat searching for answers had stiffened Merlin up and he could only imagine how much more Arthur would want to move about.

“I know you’ve never skated before, but it’s a lot like sliding across the Great Hall’s floor in your stocking feet. Only colder,” Merlin said, lacing up Arthur’s skates before doing his own.

“Don’t tell me you were sliding on the floor where anyone could see. My father would have had you flogged.” Arthur looked horrified a moment.

“Didn’t you ever do it? Even as a kid?” Merlin asked. Surely, a prince could get away with a lot more than a lowly servant.

Sighing, Arthur nodded. “I only did it once. My father yelled a lot about decorum and princely duties and then I spent the next two days confined to my room. I never even thought to try it again.”

Merlin reached over and squeezed Arthur’s arm. Their childhoods had been very different, more than just wealth and status. Hunith had loved him and showed it in so many ways that Merlin never even thought to question it. Yes, she’d been firm about the magic, but in all other things, she just let him breathe.

“Well, no one will lock you up for skating here. So up you go. Just watch me.” Merlin tiptoed onto the ice, then pushed forward, doing a lazy circle back to Arthur.

Cautious and careful, Arthur tried to follow Merlin’s movements, but he couldn’t seem to stop wobbling so Merlin just grabbed him and glided them to a stop. “Push up on your toes when you want to stop. Otherwise, it’s like sliding on thin wood. Push your right foot forward,” Merlin said, then grinned when Arthur seemed to realise what he needed to do in order to stand up straight. “See, there you go.”

Arthur grinned back at him. “How can you make it look so easy when you were always tripping over your feet?”

Shrugging, trying to look innocent as Merlin said, “Well, I wasn’t as clumsy as you think. I was always trying to hide so I could use magic to save your arse, my lord.” As Arthur frowned a little, clearly thinking about what Merlin had said, Merlin shrugged again. “I’ve had a lot of practice since then with skating and dancing and all kinds of things.”

“You can dance?” Arthur sounded incredulous.

“I have many talents.” Merlin raised one eyebrow at Arthur. But when Arthur just looked at him as if he were lying, Merlin relented, “Each century brought its own style so I can do anything from country dances to formal things. If you like, I can show you… and I promise I won’t step on your feet… much.”

With that, Merlin let Arthur go, watching as Arthur skated across the rink only a little unsteady, then skating after him to catch up. “It looks like you’ve got the hang of it. Do you want to try some other moves? Maybe go backwards?” Merlin showed him how, gliding away while facing Arthur, using his momentum, then spinning around several times, showing off a little. 

Arthur shook his head, then skated over to Merlin. But on the way, Arthur hit a wet patch and almost fell, and he grasped onto Merlin for support.

They stood there, breathing heavily, holding onto each other, Arthur to keep from falling, Merlin enjoying every second of the warmth. It was more than grabbing on. Arthur’s hands were tight on Merlin’s shoulders and Merlin’s hands around Arthur’s waist. It was almost a hug, intimate, and Merlin revelled in it. Arthur didn’t move away, didn’t protest, just stared into Merlin’s face, searching for something.

The world seemed to be holding its breath.

Merlin didn’t move, just watched Arthur’s blue eyes turning dark. He didn’t want this moment to end so he just stood there and waited and hungered for more.

But before he could say anything or lean in and brush his mouth against Arthur’s, a boy, not watching where he was going and out-of-control, bumped them by mistake, apologizing as he skated away.

The moment was broken.

Letting go, Arthur cleared his throat, then started skating around the rink, at first not looking at Merlin at all, and then watching his every move. “Come on, Merlin, keep up.” He smirked a bit, looking entirely too pleased with himself, then wobbled a bit and grabbed the nearest wall.

Showing off some more, skating on one foot with his other leg bent up, then skating backwards before he hop-skipped forwards again, he glided over to Arthur. When he reached Arthur’s location, knowing that Arthur would never back down from a challenge, Merlin said, “Want to race?”

“To the far wall, starting… now!” Arthur shouted, then pushed off and skated as fast as he could. He wasn’t bad, either. He seemed to have got his balance at last. He was laughing, too, as he did.

Merlin loved it and him, the joyous way Arthur was gloating, how his face lit up as he glanced back at Merlin, how his body bent into his efforts to win at any cost. Merlin could have stood there forever watching Arthur looking so relaxed. But there was a race to win.

Merlin pushed off, skating at fast as he could, the cold wind whistling past him. Arthur had seconds on him, but Merlin was determined to give him a run for his money. Pushing himself faster and faster, he almost made it.

Arthur got there first. Bumping into the wall to stop his momentum, Arthur let out a grunt, then turned and grinned at Merlin. Raising his arms in triumph, crowing about it, Arthur almost started to do a little victory dance, but his feet slid out from under him and he landed with a thud on the ice.

But by the time Merlin reached him, Arthur was already laughing, trying and failing to get up. Merlin just shook his head and helped him get to his feet. “Okay, you prat, you won. Try not to fall while celebrating, though. Luckily, your arse is fat enough to cushion your fall.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I am fighting fit. My arse is just as it should be, I’ll have you know.” Arthur looked scandalised about it.

“Keep telling yourself that, dollophead,” Merlin said, grinning as he did so. It was true, though. Arthur’s arse was perfect. Shaking off the thought, Merlin gestured for the exit. “We’ve been at this a while. Would you like supper? I see a pizza place nearby. We could do that, then watch the Christmas tree light up and all the booths, too. It’s pretty here at night, soft lights, quite pretty. It reminds me a lot of Camelot’s lower town in the evening in winter. There will be Christmas carolling, too.”

Arthur nodded. “Supper would be welcome. Although, what is pizza? And carolling? And why are you lighting up a tree?”

“Pizza is food for the gods. Hot chocolate doesn’t go with it, though, but we could have mulled wine. And you can see for yourself the other things, if you’d like?” Merlin asked. He wasn’t sure just how much more Arthur could take. After all, Arthur was completely out of his depth and while he’d been very open to trying new things, Merlin knew it could become overwhelming, almost chaotic.

“As long as it’s not rat stew or your sausages,” Arthur said, smirking at Merlin.

Merlin rolled his eyes, then knelt down to unlace Arthur’s skates and then his own. “Would serve you right if it was.” But then, he pulled Arthur up and began walking toward the food stalls.

* * *

Watching Arthur eat pizza made Merlin laugh. There were many ways to eat each slice, some places arguing that theirs was the only correct way—folding it in half or into quarters or even cutting it up into small pieces and using a fork, but Merlin didn’t care as long as the pizza reached his mouth. Arthur struggled with toppings sliding off and scowling at the mess, but when he finally got it into his mouth, his eyes widened. After he finished chewing, Arthur said, “this is delicious. I wish we’d had it in Camelot.”

“Well, the tomatoes were mostly on my face whenever you threw me in the stocks so it’s really your fault.” Merlin grinned. Arthur flung a crust at him and shook his head.

By the time they were finished, it had gone dark and the Christmas tree and swags of greenery were alight, sending bright colours into the darkness. The surrounding stalls were all glowing, their soft lights warming the air. The shoppers were busy laughing, talking, hugging as neighbours found each other. Some were sauntering in and out of the stalls or winding their way to the centre of the market where a local choir sung carols. It was so festive, the colours, the activity, all the lovely things for sale. Warmth to light the darkness in the dead of winter.

Merlin always loved it. It brought him joy, the bustle helped him to forget that he was no longer a part of a greater whole. At least for the Christmas season, when the whole world seemed dark, he could pretend that he mattered, too, that he had people who cared about him, even if it was just the hot chocolate vendor or the girl who sold him festive socks. 

Sharing it with Arthur, watching his face light up as he moved from stall to stall, was a gift all in its own. Arthur seemed to delight in all the sparkle. He ignored the jewellery, although he briefly looked at a pendant very similar to the one he’d worn when Merlin first met him but explored the booths of foodstuffs and belts and finely made gloves. Merlin bought him a red scarf, close enough to Pendragon red to make Arthur smile, and had fun winding it around Arthur’s throat. Arthur didn’t even protest which was a win.

Looking at the ornaments, Merlin told Arthur that he didn’t put up a tree because it seemed a waste for one person but the swag of pine over the fireplace was his nod to the season. Arthur insisted that they get something to commemorate Arthur’s return and place it there, and they spent the next half hour arguing about just what to buy. In the end, Merlin purchased a glass ball with a painting of a castle on it, not quite Camelot but still regal, and promised to put it up as soon as they got back. Arthur smiled at that.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they returned to the flat, it was late. But Arthur insisted on hanging the ornament over the fireplace. At Arthur stepped back, admiring it, Merlin grinned. It had been a good day.

As he prepared hot chocolate and settled down next to Arthur on the sofa, Merlin said, “I was glad you liked the market. I was a bit worried that it might have been overwhelming for you.”

“Merlin, I can deal with a little shopping.” Arthur gave Merlin a satisfied smirk, then took a sip of his drink.

“That’s not… I was afraid that you would have trouble with all the new ideas. After all, it’s very different from Camelot.” Merlin turned to him, nudging him a little before settling back. “Pizza and hot chocolate notwithstanding, the vast array of things to buy, the lights, the ways of dealing with society and history. I thought you might withdraw or even grow angry about the changes.”

Arthur put aside his chocolate, then frowning down at his hands, silent and thoughtful for a few drawn-out seconds, he finally said, “It _is_ too much. All at once. The plumbing, the way foods are stored, the wealth, the vastness of it. If I thought about it, really thought about it, I’d be hiding away.” Lifting his chin, squaring his shoulders, Arthur looked as determined as Merlin had ever seen him. “But you know me, Merlin. I face my fears. To hide would be the mark of a coward and I am not that.”

“No, you aren’t.” Merlin nodded, then gave a long unhappy sigh, swallowing hard as he said, “I was. I am. For many years, I fell into drink or drugs or withdrew from the world and hid in the woods, a wild man to frighten children. I couldn’t deal with it, the loss.” Merlin looked away, staring out the lounge window into the darkness. “In many ways, I still can’t. Mostly, I just ignore it. I go about my dull life, making enough money to live on, but not making friends or connections. It’s too painful.”

Arthur reached out, his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “Merlin, you are the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

Trying not to lean too much into that wanted touch, his voice small and unhappy, Merlin pointed out, “Not brave enough to tell you about my magic back then.”

“No.” Arthur nodded, but he didn’t let go, just kept his hand there, warming Merlin. “But there is bravery and foolhardiness and I’m not sure you were wrong, much as I hate to admit it.”

But Merlin didn’t want the comfort. He didn’t deserve it. Shaking off Arthur’s touch, Merlin said, “I was wrong. The day you… died, I realised I’d made terrible mistakes and I couldn’t deal with knowing that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Merlin,” Arthur said, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s shoulders.

Merlin looked up at that. “But it was. If I hadn’t helped Aithusa to be born, the dragon would never have forged the blade that killed you. If I’d paid more attention to Gaius’s healing lessons, I might have saved you. If I’d have helped Morgana, she might never have turned to the darkness. So many things I could have done and didn’t.”

Arthur let go of Merlin, turning to face him. “Did you do what you thought was right?”

Nodding, Merlin said, his voice full of pain, “Each time, I thought I’d done the right thing, but it turned wrong somehow. Love turned into desperation and then into panic. If I’d only stepped back and not let my heart rule my head, things might have been very different.”

“But we can’t change the past, only learn from it.” Arthur sounded as if he meant it, and it warmed Merlin a little.

Sending him a grateful look, Merlin said, “When did you become so wise?”

“I’ve always been perfect in every way.” Arthur pulled back, putting his hand over his heart, looking fake-affronted.

“According to that fat head of yours no doubt,” Merlin chuckled, then sobered. “Was today too much?”

Thinking about it a moment, Arthur nodded, “I’ll let you in on a secret. I told myself that it was all a dream. Then everything made sense, even your babbling, and I didn’t have to worry about the how or why, just that it was what it was. It made things a lot easier to accept.” More slowly, he said, “Have I to deal with these things on a regular basis, it would be more difficult. But given time, I’m sure I’d adapt.”

“I would be there to help. I always will be.” Merlin meant every word.

Arthur said, “We still don’t know what this Santa person has planned for me. Will we be able to find anything more, do you think?”

“It doesn’t hurt to try but I’m not hopeful,” Merlin said, wishing he knew what else do to but coming up with nothing.

“Have you tried… everything?” Arthur said.

At first, Merlin didn’t know what he meant. They’d tried every pathway to finding out who and what Santa Claus really was and what to expect from him, but the internet wasn’t the be-all and end-all of things.

Finally, Merlin realised what Arthur was saying. “I… umm. The internet doesn’t work well with… umm… magic, if that’s what you are… umm… asking.”

Arthur took another sip of his hot chocolate, scowling a little down at the cold dregs. “You claim to use it all the time, but I’ve seen no evidence of it. Only the things you call science.”

“I didn’t want to spook you. After all, you only saw it as evil and I… don’t want you to think of me that way.” Merlin had wanted to use magic the moment Arthur showed up but thought that it might be too much with all the changes. And if he were honest with himself, he didn’t want the rejection that would surely follow.

“If Santa changes his mind, I will be here afterwards. You shouldn’t have to give up part of yourself just for me.”

Merlin wasn’t sure if Arthur really believed that or if he was just trying to be brave and deal with everything all at once. It was true that if they were somehow to keep Arthur around after Christmas day, Arthur would have to get used to it, used to everything including Merlin’s abilities.

But Merlin had wanted to share this part of him with Arthur forever so, taking a leap of faith that Arthur wouldn’t grow angry or rebuff Merlin’s help, Merlin said, “How about if I start with something small?”

When Arthur nodded, Merlin pulled him up, taking him over to the ornament hanging on the fireplace mantle. As they both stood there, Merlin changed it from a painting of Windsor Castle into an exact copy of Camelot, complete with flying pennants and a tiny Arthur on his favourite horse. “ _Behwierfe_.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, just stared at the painted bauble, but he didn’t object or seem upset. So emboldened, Merlin whispered, “ _Forbearnan_.” 

The fireplace hearth was suddenly a blaze of firelight, crackling and hissing as the wood began to pop in the heat. Above the flames, Merlin drew pictures with the sparks flying there, knights jousting, a dragon flying over them, little figures dancing in the light.

But when he looked at Arthur again, Arthur’s face was pale, his eyes a little wild, as he stared down at the fire and then back up at Merlin.

It was obvious that Merlin had made another mistake. Arthur, for all his supposed tolerance, wasn’t as understanding as Merlin hoped. He pondered whether to let the fire go out, but thought that would just accentuate the problem, so instead, he let the images disappear but kept the fire alight.

Trying not to spook Arthur more than he already was, Merlin said, “How about we go back to searching for some clues as to what this Santa is up to? Okay?”

Arthur nodded but when Merlin moved to pick up Arthur’s mug and take it over to be washed, Arthur flinched back. It wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but Merlin had known Arthur for years, knew his every move and what each could mean.

Arthur was afraid of Merlin, of what he could do, of his magic. Brave or not, Arthur didn’t want Merlin near him, at least not then. Whether he could come to terms with Merlin’s magic in time, whether they had time at all, Merlin didn’t know. But his heart hurt with the knowledge that even now, Arthur didn’t want anything to do with something so vital to Merlin as magic.

Still, they needed to get past this.

Ignoring the silence, Merlin went into the study, pulling up the internet and searching for more clues. Arthur was behind him as he had been earlier in the day, but not close, certainly not touching him as he had done. After an hour or so, Arthur was yawning, and Merlin finally left him to get ready for bed.

One night remained.

Merlin was tired, too, but using his laptop and sitting on the sofa, he continued to search. All dead ends. There was too much mythology on Santa Claus and not nearly enough actual information. When he finally closed his laptop, he was frustrated and unhappy and worried about Arthur. If Merlin couldn’t protect him from the machinations of Saint Nicholas or Father Christmas or Santa-whatever, he wasn’t sure what to do. He would use magic, of course, but without some concrete way of knowing the elf’s weaknesses, he wasn’t going to be able to ensure Arthur remained with Merlin.

Hoping that Arthur was still awake, Merlin padded into the study. But in the moonlight, Merlin could see that Arthur was asleep, snoring softly, blankets pulled around him almost into knots. As Merlin stared down at him, Arthur muttered something, then fell deeper into sleep.

Merlin couldn’t stand it. To be so close and yet so far. He’d made a mistake showing Arthur his magic, certainly he shouldn’t have after a day of new experiences. He should have waited a while, eased him into it, started with smaller things than a huge crackling fire. Butterflies perhaps or growing flowers from seeds, something innocuous. But it was too late to think of that now.

But there was one thing Merlin could do, even if Arthur never found out. Sitting down, brushing Arthur’s hair away from his face, gently so as to not wake him, Merlin said, “I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I’m not what you need. I’m… sorry that I was never enough for you and that I failed you in the end.”

Arthur murmured again, then turned over, away from Merlin, and settled back into silence.

“I should have told you how I felt all those years ago. Confessed everything. And now it’s too late. But know this. I love you. I think that’s why everything went so wrong. I let my love for you overrule everything, the Druids, magic, destiny be damned. I loved you and I still do. I guess I always will.”

There was no declaration of love returned. Arthur was asleep and he’d not remember Merlin’s confession in the morning. In the morning, Arthur would only know that Merlin was magic and that it was his last day there. And Merlin would try and be the friend Arthur needed. One last time.


	8. Chapter 8

When Arthur shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, Merlin was already eating. He’d stayed up half the night, searching through his books and as much magical knowledge as he could find on how to stave off a determined elf. Defence, attack, holding time still until Santa got tired of fighting and left, all were possibilities and Merlin needed to be ready for whatever came his way.

Arthur poured out a glass of juice and sat down, watching Merlin as he did so, looking at him with a careful caution.

In silence, Merlin cooked Arthur’s eggs, then sliding the still-warm sausages onto the plate with the eggs, he handed it over and sat down again. 

Finally, Merlin couldn’t take it any longer. “I’ve done as much research as I could. I even went through some of my old texts trying to find ways to help the situation. Just so you know, I may have to use a good bit of battle magic. It’s a lot more… intense than what I did yesterday.”

Looking up at that, Arthur nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”

A sudden spark of anger in Merlin’s chest, with a sharp voice, he said, “Are we going to talk about this? I told you I had magic. What part of me and magic don’t you understand?”

Frowning, Arthur let out a long breath, then said, “You talk a lot about magic, but I haven’t seen much evidence of it. Until last night, you didn’t use it at all in front of me.” Arthur got up, then took the dishes to the sink and dumped them in. Turning around, he said, “Why is that?”

“For fuck’s sake, when I did, you freaked out,” Merlin said, glaring at Arthur. “You flinched and don’t think I didn’t notice. Then after, you stayed away from me. You wouldn’t look at me at all. I think you made it very clear how you feel about magic. And me.”

Arthur stood there, biting at his lip. Finally, he said, “I admit to the flinching. My father would rail for hours about magic and fire and how sorcerers would use it to consume their enemies. You have to admit that we’ve had our share of magical fireballs hitting Camelot and there was that blazing tornado Morgause conjured up. And there were other times, too, before you became my servant. So, forgive me, but I would be a fool not to be wary of a sudden fire.” 

Merlin looked down at his hands. “Okay, okay, I should have eased you into it.” When he glanced up, Arthur gave him a look which spoke of idiots and thinking things through first. There were times when Arthur looked a lot like Gaius when Merlin did something stupid. Rolling his eyes, knowing that he needed to take things slowly, Merlin said, “How about I tell you before I do something? You know, get you used to it?”

“Why, Merlin, that sounds a wise thing to do,” Arthur said, sarcasm in his voice.

Scowling at him, Merlin said, “Okay, prat, since you have never learned to clean up after yourself, I’m about to put away the dishes. Stand back.” With a wave of his hand, Arthur’s dishes and Merlin’s, washed themselves, then scooted into the dishwasher which closed with a thud.

“I knew it. I knew you were getting out of your chores somehow!” Arthur grunted.

“Hey, you gave me so many chores, a dozen servants couldn’t have finished them all.” As Merlin glanced over at Arthur, the prat was looking a little bit guilty. “Wait, you did that on purpose?” When Arthur shrugged, Merlin threw the tea towel at him. “You are such an arse.” 

“It was pretty entertaining to watch you scurrying around and complaining about it all.” Merlin’s scowl deepened but Arthur was trying hard not to smile. Merlin could see it in the way Arthur’s face was contorting as Arthur said, “Your complaints were really inventive, too. I’d never heard so many made-up words.”

“Yeah, well, ‘sorry’ wasn’t one of your words so there was that,” Merlin shot back.

“What kind of word is ‘sorry’? I don’t know that word.” Then Arthur grinned, trying to look innocent and failing miserably.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Merlin said. He knew the answer to that, but bringing it up wouldn’t change anything. In all honesty, he’d put up with Arthur forever if he could. Instead, gesturing toward his study, Merlin said, “Shall we give it one last try at finding any weakness in the Christmas elf?”

Arthur nodded.

* * *

It was late afternoon when they finally gave up. Merlin tried to keep up a brave face for Arthur’s sake, but he just wanted to cry. All that power and he still didn’t have a clue how to fight off Santa or even if he was supposed to.

He thought about maybe driving away into the countryside, somewhere Saint Nick couldn’t find them but everything he’d read said that Santa Claus knew pretty much where everyone was.

‘Knows when they are sleeping, when they are awake, when they’ve been bad or good, so be fucking good for goodness’s sake’. Gods, how he hated that song now.

Merlin asked Arthur if he wanted to see more of the city or maybe go back to the Christmas village one last time, but Arthur just shook his head. “Let’s stay in. You can tell me some stories. I don’t really know much about what you did when we were in Camelot. I thought you were an inept but loyal servant, funny but wise, foolish and ridiculous at times but I guess I never got to know the real you… so tell me.”

“You know me,” Merlin said, leaning back against the sofa. “I was all of those things and lonely, too. Living like a shadow. You were always off trying to get yourself killed. Gods above, trying to keep you alive was like herding cats. I’d get rid of one threat and you’d have another two waiting in the wings and you thinking that sword and sinew alone would do the trick against magic. Which was ridiculous.” When Arthur grunted, Merlin had to smile. “I’ll say one thing for you. You never let a little thing like death stop you if you thought you were doing the right thing. I’d be right behind you, whispering spells, shoving aside bandits and monsters. It was exhausting.”

“Hey, I tried to get you to stay behind and you followed me anyway.” Arthur nudged Merlin with an elbow, then shook his head when Merlin glared at him. “Self-sacrificing idiot. I can’t tell you how many times I thought I’d lost you and I just couldn’t… it was difficult.”

“I guess we were a right pair then.” Merlin jostled Arthur with his shoulder and they both settled in, arms and thighs touching. “What do you want to know? And don’t ask for how many times I saved your arse because I lost count after the first year with you.”

“Okay, how often did you really go to the tavern?” When Merlin stared at him, Arthur blinked in surprise. “Oh, so that was an excuse?”

“I loved Gaius as much as any son might love his foster-father, but he could be a real git at times. I told him often enough to think up some other excuse, but blam, he went right back to the tavern excuse, the pillock.” Merlin snickered. “I swear that man made his potions taste like shit just because he could. Just be glad you didn’t know what was in them.”

“Worse than rat stew?” Arthur said, shaking his head.

“Oh, much worse. Toad paste, the scum floating on the cesspit, cat entr….”

Arthur interrupted him, “Okay, I don’t want to know after all. Toad paste, really?” When Merlin nodded, Arthur gave a little grimace, smacking his lips as if he remembered a few of the worst ones. “So scariest moment?”

“So many of them. Every time I thought you were going to die. Seems like every other day my heart would start to break, and I’d be off on some rescue mission. You were hard work.” Merlin let out a long sigh. “Worth it, though. I saw your brilliance even while you were being a supercilious cabbagehead.”

Looking mock-offended, Arthur said, “I’ll have you know I am not a cabbagehead. There is no such word.” Then he smiled a little. “But I was glad you were beside me as you are now. It’s… hard to describe how I felt about us and things, but I always knew I wanted you by my side. Hell, I told Gwen one time that I wanted to be a farmer and that I’d take you with me so you could do all the hard work. Even then, I wanted you with me.” 

“My mum said we were like two sides of the same coin. So did the dragon but he was a crusty old lizard who lied as easily as breathe. It was him that told me you would come back someday. The Once and Future King when Albion’s need was greatest.”

Merlin realised his mistake a moment later when Arthur stared at him. “Dragon?”

“Shit.” Biting at his lip because he knew Arthur wouldn’t take it well, Merlin said, “Yes, I’m a dragonlord. Surprise?”

“That’s a hell of a surprise. I thought….” Arthur looked confused, then scowled at Merlin as if he was beginning to think about all the ramifications. “Explain.”

Merlin began to panic. No matter how he explained it, it was bad, really bad. He didn’t think Arthur would take the news well or even forgive him for it.

“Look, I didn’t know until right before we left to find Balinor. There were so much chaos and people were dying, and it was all my fault. I felt terrible about it, but I couldn’t do anything. I thought I could control Kilgharrah because I had magic—he told me I was the greatest wizard alive, and like a fool I believed him. But I was wrong, and things just kept getting worse and worse. I had promised to release the dragon when he helped me stop the Knights of Medhir, but he wouldn’t tell me how unless I promised on my mother’s life.” Merlin let out a little sob. It was so hard even now to say the words.

“It was my mother’s _life_ and Kilgharrah threatened to kill her unless I kept my word. When I did, he… gods, I hadn’t believed he could be that ruthless. When I found out about Balinor, I was so relieved. I thought maybe he could teach me how to control the dragons or if nothing else, to order Kilgharrah away. But when Balinor died, I panicked. I didn’t know if I had even inherited his powers until we rode out. I thought we’d die but I wanted to protect you as much as I could. I didn’t know if it would work. But it did. I was able to order the dragon away and then I mourned my father in secret while you were celebrating.” Merlin finally stopped to breathe.

“You released the dragon?” Arthur’s voice was flat and unyielding, and when Merlin nodded, he said, “You didn’t think to tell me?”

“Tell you what exactly? That I had magic? That I talked to a dragon who used me like the naïve country bumpkin I was for his own purposes? That Morgana was turning to evil long before you realised it? That it was because of her I had to release Kilgharrah? That she was working with Morgause even then and I thought we were all going to be killed and we were getting sicker and sicker and the dragon said I should poison her because that was the only way to free everyone? And gods, it was so hard. Betraying a friend and it was my fault.”

Arthur scrambled up, away from Merlin, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. “What?”

Merlin stood, too, then began to pace the floor, keeping the sofa between him and Arthur. It was hard to breathe, tears clogging his throat, but he had to get it out, all of it, because it didn’t matter anymore. Arthur would never forgive him.

“Watching her struggle just about killed me but I knew I couldn’t let you die, that she wasn’t worth your life but part of me was horrified. You know there are some poisons that don’t have an antidote, but this did, and I thought, I hoped, that somehow I’d be able to fix it before it was too late. Bargaining for your life against hers was so damn hard, but Morgause knew I would do what I had to, to keep you safe. She lifted the curse, but Morgana never forgave me, and I never forgave myself either.”

Arthur whispered, “I never knew. You lied to me about everything.”

As Arthur looked at him in horror, Merlin said, “Did you really expect me to tell you about it all back then? Do you really think that you wouldn’t have killed me for it? Because you threatened me often enough. Even threw me in prison. So, don’t go all righteous on me. You know you would have.”

“You would have deserved it. My people died because of your actions, and Morgana, that’s….” Arthur said, standing up and heading for the study. “I’ll have to think about this.”

Merlin shouted after him. “Well, don’t think too long because my life was pretty shitty the whole time and yours was one glorious battle after another. If I made a mistake, at least I knew it and tried to make things better. And you were just one roadblock after another.”

Turning around, Arthur snarled at him, “At least I didn’t lie every second I was around you.”

“At least you wouldn’t have been killed for telling the truth, either,” Merlin shot back.

Arthur’s face was getting red as he seemed to be growing more and more angry. “Are you still lying to me? Even now?”

Pulling at his hair then throwing his arms wide, Merlin roared, “Why the hell would I? You’ll be gone by tomorrow and I’ll be stuck in this hellhole, mourning every moment you aren’t here. You have no fucking idea of just how lonely it’s been and what I’d give to have you stay, but go on, blame me for every fucking thing that went wrong back then. Gods, you are such a prat.”

“And how many other things are you not telling me? How many lies are there?” Arthur shouted back.

“You want to know the truth? The truth is that I’ve hated my life for more than a thousand years. I did the best I could, and it wasn’t enough. Never enough.” Merlin could feel the tears against his hot skin, and he brushed his sleeve across his face, but it didn’t stop more tears from wetting his cheeks. “Watching you suffer, watching you die and I fucking couldn’t stop it and I loved you so much and it wasn’t enough. And gods, I couldn’t stop it. So, go. Hide in your room and wait for him to take you away from me and I’ll know that you’ll always hate me for the things I’ve done to keep you safe.”

The door slamming shut sounded like the end of the world. Maybe it was.

Shit.


	9. Chapter 9

It was becoming a habit. Merlin had them deliver tikka masala and put some and the naan onto a plate and left it by the study door. Merlin sat down at the little table and tried to swallow food that tasted like dust.

Finally, Arthur came out, late in the evening, and stood by the door. Arms folded, looking like a thundercloud, Arthur said, “My sister was working with Morgause even then?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure if she was a dupe or in league with her, but every time I asked, Morgana lied about what was going on. I knew by then that she had magic and she knew she could trust me with that knowledge so lying to me set up alarm bells. When the dragon told me what she’d done, it made sense.” Merlin gave a little sigh, pushing his food around his plate. “Look, Arthur, I was exhausted. We were both falling asleep and I had no one else to ask. Normally, I would have gone to Gaius, but I was so terrified that you were going to die, that I didn’t think too much about it. That damned lizard played me for a fool, and I’ve regretted it every day since.” He flung the naan down onto his cold supper. “It still haunts me.”

“It’s a lot to think about. I’m still furious with you, but thinking more about it, I can almost understand it. I wish we had trusted each other enough for you to come to me.” Arthur didn’t really look like he was all that forgiving, though. Merlin didn’t really blame him. “Any other revelations?”

“I… umm… was Dragoon? But I didn’t kill your father. Morgana had Agravaine place an amulet on him so that any good magic would turn deadly. We didn’t find out until later and by then you really hated magic.” Merlin hesitated, then said, “Once I disguised myself as the Dolma, too.”

Arthur stood there, thinking. Merlin could see a flurry of emotions in Arthur’s eyes before Arthur finally said, affronted, “Dragoon? You kicked me. Like a horse.”

When Merlin just shrugged, with a little more warmth in his voice, Arthur said, “The Dolma, really Merlin?”

Flushing with embarrassment, Merlin said, “Gaius’s idea. I told you he was a pillock. I swear he was giggling the whole time. He even insisted I wear those filthy rags.”

“The Dolma flirted with me.” Arthur sounded appalled.

Merlin tried not to smile at that. “Well, that wasn’t Gaius’s idea. You should have seen the look on your face when I did.”

Glaring at him, Arthur said, “Merlin, I can’t forgive you easily. My head hurts from thinking about all the things you told me. And I’m sure there’s more.”

“Mostly me trying to trade my life for yours.” Merlin looked down at his hands and then gazed again at Arthur. “Worked a couple of times. But those are longer stories.”

At least Arthur wasn’t running for the hills. Still, he said, “We’re almost out of time and I am not sure when or if I’ll be able to trust you again. You understand?”

“Yeah, I thought you might not. Or ever. It’s not like my life isn’t fucked up anyway.” Merlin shrugged again, unhappy but resigned. “Look, we don’t know what’s going to happen. If Santa isn’t trying to kill you and just is taking you somewhere else, do you want to go?”

He wanted the answer to be that Arthur’s devotion and love would always be for Merlin, that he would fight to stay with Merlin no matter what, but that wasn’t going to happen, not now.

“I think we should listen to what he has to say,” Arthur said.

Merlin just nodded.

* * *

It was five minutes to midnight when Merlin heard the bells of a sleigh. For a moment, he thought about stoking up the fire and creating such a blaze that even Santa would think twice about before going down any chimney. But old Saint Nick, aka Santa, had magic, probably more powerful than Merlin’s, and so instead, they waited by the fireplace for Santa to arrive.

The man was as jolly as ever, his cheeks bright with cold, and he was smiling as he rose up and stood there, gazing at them both. “Ah, Merlin, I hope my gift to you was to your liking.”

“Arthur is not a thing, you arse.” Merlin shoved Arthur behind him, protecting him. Glaring at Saint Nick, almost yelling at him, Merlin said, “A gift? You knew I wanted him back so badly I could hardly breathe, and then you are about to rip him away again. Should I thank you for that? It only made things worse. He hates me now and you are… gods, how I ever could think that you were giving me a chance to make things right?” Merlin’s eyes narrowed, his voice turning cold. “Or was this some kind of retribution for something I’ve done in the past? As if my life wasn’t already fucked up enough as it is.”

Santa’s eyes flicked to Arthur, then he turned back to answer Merlin. “It was your choice, Merlin, as it always was.”

“No, it wasn’t. If I’d have more time, I might be able to show him just who I am, how beautiful magic could be, but now, he’s… he just sees an enemy. He doesn’t know how fucking much I love him. That I’d do anything for him. Anything.”

Merlin didn’t look back at Arthur. He wasn’t sure he could stand to see the revulsion in Arthur’s face. But it was true, all of it. He loved Arthur more than life itself, and he’d give his own life up a dozen times over if he could save Arthur.

Santa sighed a little. “You still haven’t learned. In all your years, you’ve not learned that to love is to do what is best for the one you love, even if that means letting him go.” 

Behind him, Merlin could hear Arthur calling his name and pulling at his sleeve, but he just shook Arthur off. Instead, he snarled at Santa Claus, “Listen, _Nick_ , I’ve enough of your New Age crap. And how is letting him go going to help? We don’t even know what you are going to do. For all we know, you are going to imprison him or worse.”

“What does your heart tell you?” Santa said.

That just infuriated Merlin even more. “Really? That’s your defence? Because my heart is fucked up right now. And I hate cryptic nonsense. Kilgharrah was the same, playing me for a fool. So, I ask you again, _Nick_ , what do you want with Arthur?”

“Maybe you should let him talk, Merlin,” Arthur said, pushing to stand next to Merlin.

But Merlin snapped at Arthur, stepping in front of him again to keep him from getting too near Santa Claus, “You have no idea what he’s capable of.” Then he turned back to a frowning Santa. “I won’t let you hurt him. Even if it took every ounce of my magic to oppose you. I won’t have him die again because of me.”

Santa Claus’s gaze flicked to Arthur a moment before turning back to Merlin. His voice no longer jolly but wintery, he said, “He’s not going to die. What do you take me for? Have you learned nothing of the Christmas spirit and the giving of gifts?”

Merlin snarled, “Well, this gift just made things worse so forgive me if I’m not super happy about it.”

“What?” Arthur said, “I thought….”

Turning his head, looking at the only person he’d ever love, Merlin said, “I love having you here, Arthur, even if you hate me. I never want you to leave, but if I have to lose you again, the pain of it might destroy me. So no, I’m not super happy with this Saint Nicholas or Santa Claus or whoever the hell he is, messing with my heart. I love you more than life itself, but apparently, destiny is fucking with me again.” Merlin swung back on Santa Claus. “I ask you again. What are you going to do with Arthur?”

“Merlin, Arthur had other places to be. Albion’s time of need is not yet here,” Santa said.

“And not with me?” When Santa Claus shook his head, Merlin said, “Where then? What’s going to happen?”

“That is not your concern.” Santa frowned at Merlin, then started to turn toward Arthur.

Merlin lunged for Santa, pushing him back. ”Fuck that. You will tell me _now_.”

“Merlin, you need to stop,” Arthur said but Merlin shook his head, continuing to glare at Santa.

There were storm-clouds in Saint Nick’s eyes and Merlin could feel the magic rising, all warped and intense, as Santa scowled at him. No jolly laugh, no welcoming smile. His voice, too, was deep as if echoing from under the earth. “You have forgotten your purpose, Merlin of Ealdor. You have wallowed in self-pity when you should have been preparing for Arthur’s return. My gift was to remind you of this. And yet all you can do even now is to try and keep him here with you, instead of letting him go until he is needed once more.”

Santa Claus looked as if he’d brook no interference from anyone, least of all, Merlin. “Would you obstruct the wheels of destiny? Or thwart Albion’s greatest hero from doing what he must? Would you condemn Albion to destruction when Arthur could save us all?”

“Damn right, I would. Fuck destiny. It’s brought me nothing but pain. And Arthur died because of bollocksing destiny so don’t tell me about obstruction or thwarting or destruction, you fucking wanker,” Merlin snarled.

“Insulting me will not help you.” Saint Nick stared at Merlin. “If I told you, you would try and interfere. As you have always done. And don’t bother to deny it.”

That was true. Arthur would always come first. Always. And if that meant interference, then hell yes, Merlin would do whatever it took. “Are you taking him back to Avalon, then? Because I’ll be damned before I let him go with you without some answers. I swear I will hunt you down and destroy you, saint or not, if you hurt him in any way.”

Santa was about to say something else, but Arthur yanked on Merlin’s sleeve, turning him to face Arthur. Merlin struggled a little, thinking that he should never turn his back on a potential threat, but Arthur reached up and cupped Merlin’s face between his hands, holding him still.

“Merlin, listen to me,” Arthur said, smoothing his thumb across Merlin’s cheek. “Listen, it is my life and my decision whether to go or fight to stay, not yours.”

“But Arthur, you have….” Merlin gulped back sobs that threatened to come out, and said, “I just want you safe.”

“I know you do. You always have rescued me, even when I didn’t know it,” Arthur murmured. “But I know it now, and it’s my choice, not yours, Merlin. You have to let me decide.”

Letting out a little gulp, Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes, seeing the determination and resolve there, and nodded.

Arthur didn’t let Merlin go, just shifted so that his hand encircled Merlin’s wrist, holding him close, then looked past him to Santa Claus. “I have concerns as well.”

Nodding, Santa said, “Arthur, I promise you are not in any danger. You are merely going elsewhere, away from Merlin, to begin a new life. To learn what you need to know for the fight ahead.”

That seemed to satisfy Arthur. Holding Merlin still, almost as if he were afraid Merlin would do something spectacularly stupid, Arthur said, “Sir, from everything that I’ve read, you wish goodwill to all and harm to none. Can you promise me that Merlin will be safe?”

Merlin glared at Arthur. “He’s not threatening me, you prat. I won’t have you sacrifice yourself again. I won’t. Not for me.”

Sighing, Arthur twisted Merlin around and put both hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “Merlin, have you listened at all? He talks of destiny and a new life, that I am needed to keep Albion from ruin. How can I ignore that?” Arthur shook Merlin a little. “Duty would have me save them, as I would have saved Camelot had I the chance.”

Hating how much Arthur looked like his old self, a king determined to do the best for his people even if it cost him everything, resigned, Merlin said, “Gods, I hate your self-sacrificing crap. All it ever did was get yourself killed.” He turned his head to glare at Santa Claus. “Look, Santa, Saint Nicholas, whatever, take me instead. I’ve lived long enough. Arthur deserves to….”

Scowling at Merlin, Arthur said, “And you yell at me about self-sacrifice, you idiot?”

Seeming to grow impatient, looking at the very ornate watch on his wrist, Santa said, “Arthur isn’t going to die. But he won’t remember you until the time is right.”

“What?” Merlin said, appalled, but Arthur just nodded, almost as if he expected it.

“Say your good-byes. The hour grows late, and I cannot hold time back much longer.” Santa patted his watch, then nodded toward the chimney. “And I have other duties this night.”

Reaching up, one palm cupping Arthur’s face, Merlin said, “Arthur, listen to me, listen. I’m sorry I never told you a long time ago about things, about my magic and all the things I’d done for you and… I know you loved Gwen and I was happy for you but honestly, I wanted it to be me. I love you. I always will. I just wanted you to know.”

“I know.” Arthur turned his face and kissed Merlin’s palm. “I was never good with words, but I feel the same. When I come back, we can figure it out, then, okay?” Then as Merlin finally gave up trying to stop the tears, Arthur pulled him into a hug, wiping the grief off Merlin’s face with his fingertips. “Hey, don’t cry. You wouldn’t want me to call you a girl, would you?”

Merlin gave him a weak chuckle. “No, call me idiot instead.”

“My idiot,” Arthur said, his voice as fond and full of love as Merlin had ever heard.

With an anguished smile, Merlin said, “My prat.”

At that, Arthur leaned in, giving Merlin a kiss, the merest touch of lips, then he stepped back, letting Merlin go. Shivering, already cold from the loss of Arthur’s embrace, in the distance, over the pounding of his heart, Merlin could hear the last few chimes of a distant church bell.

Staring at Arthur, Merlin almost didn’t hear Santa Claus say, “Fear not, Merlin of Ealdor. You will see him again. I will contact you when the time is right. Until then, farewell.”

With that, just as Christmas day’s bells rang out in the city, welcoming a new day, Santa Claus and Arthur vanished, and Merlin was left alone.

Again.


	10. Chapter 10

For months after, Merlin chased down every clue, every sign of an Arthur reborn. He thought maybe a baby born on Christmas day would be him but for all he knew, Arthur could have arrived at any time and at any age. The wanker, Santa-whatever, could bend time. Delivering all the toys across the world in a single night was proof of that.

For years after that, every tow-headed boy would have Merlin’s heart beating again in hope, but it was never Arthur.

So instead, trying to forget his loneliness and desperation, Merlin studied harder, chasing down every hint of magic so that he could be ready when Arthur would need him again. Merlin followed politics and the sciences, the arts, military strategy, anything that could turn into enough of a horror that it could be considered Albion’s greatest need were it to go awry.

Once Merlin thought about it, once he got past the hurt and the grief, he realised that what Santa Claus said about Merlin’s neglect in keeping up with the world was correct. Merlin had ignored his responsibilities for far too long, wallowing in despair when he should have been preparing for Arthur’s return.

It was past time to change that and to get ready for what was to come. Merlin did just that.

Then on Christmas day twenty-one years later, there was a knock on the door.

Arthur stood there, looking every bit as beautiful as the day he’d left, and handed Merlin a card from Santa Claus. Then he swept Merlin up into his arms and kissed him as if he’d never left and would never leave again. “I remembered,” Arthur said. “I remember everything.”

Merlin didn’t recall closing the door or helping to take Arthur’s jacket off or spinning them both into the lounge. He kept touching Arthur’s face, letting his fingertips follow the contours of his cheek and his mouth before Arthur kissed him again. In between, Merlin murmured, “Is it really you? Oh, gods, please let it be you.”

Giving a little laugh, full of joy and delight, Arthur said, “It’s me and I’m here to stay. And after the mess is over, after we’ve solved whatever crisis there is to come, Santa told me he’d not taking back his gift this time and I quote ‘ho, ho, ho’, although whatever the hell that means I don’t know. But I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Merlin didn’t know what to do, where to touch. He wanted everything, wanted to dive into Arthur and never come out again. But, pulling back a little, worried about what Arthur might say but still Merlin needed to know, Merlin asked, “Are we… are we okay? With my magic and… things? I still can’t believe you are here.”

Leaning against the back of the sofa, Arthur pulled Merlin close, then nosing against Merlin’s neck before sucking a mark into Merlin’s skin—and oh how much Merlin loved being marked by Arthur, Arthur said, “We’re okay. I thought a lot about it this morning. Even looked up the legends, well your legend at least and there is a lot of misinformation out there.”

Merlin was so relieved that he couldn’t help snickering a little. “The legends have been building for centuries. They really warped things a lot, but I didn’t bother correcting them. It didn’t matter to me at the time.”

“I think this time I’ll be less afraid of magic. A lot of science is magic to most people after all.” Arthur said, then went back to kissing Merlin.

Merlin didn’t want to stop him. Arthur’s lips on Merlin’s were brilliant and he wanted to sink into Arthur’s embrace and never come out again. But he needed to know what happened.

“How… Arthur, how did you find me?” Merlin asked.

Arthur looked like he couldn’t believe that Merlin was asking questions when they could be doing other things. Finally, he gave a little huff of annoyance and said, “Until early this morning, I had no idea of who you were or that I was once king of Camelot, but Santa Claus—did you know he’s real? I still can’t believe it. I thought he was just made-up—came and when he gave me the card, it all came flooding back.” Arthur shook his head. “At first I couldn’t accept it, but the memories were so strong that I knew I had to find you.”

“Good thing I didn’t move, then,” Merlin said. He tried to make it sound like it were nothing, but it could have been a disaster. How hard it would have been to find him.

“I would have found you, no matter where you’d gone,” Arthur said, sounding as sure of himself as he ever had been in Camelot. “Listen, I’ll give you the basics and then I want to take you to bed. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I found out about you.”

Merlin nodded, overwhelmed by Arthur’s determination. He was certainly up for it. Literally.

Arthur grinned. “Well, it’s my birthday today. I grew up in London, I’m going to uni there for my studies in military strategies and biological warfare. I never even thought about magic or legends, though. Why should I? I was more focused on footie and pub crawls and my studies.”

“I looked for you everywhere, in London, too, but destiny can be a bitch,” Merlin said, starting to crowd him then, reaching up to brush through that soft hair, letting his fingertips skim the beginnings of scruff. “Oh, gods, look at you.”

Arthur grinned, grabbing Merlin’s hand, kissing the palm, then pushing it to rest against his chest. “I don’t know what’s coming, but as long as we’re together, I think we’ll see it through.”

Feeling Arthur’s heartbeat under his hand, Merlin tried not think about taking Arthur right then and there. Gathering his wits about him, Merlin nodded over toward the fireplace. There on the mantle swag, a glass ornament was displayed, the Camelot they loved so much and Arthur on his favourite horse painted on it. “I kept it. I would hang it up every Christmas just in case.”

Smiling, Arthur leaned over and gave Merlin a soft kiss, then began tugging him towards Merlin’s room. “Well, now we can make new memories.”

As they stumbled toward the bedroom, Merlin’s hand firmly in Arthur’s, Merlin thought about all the things they’d been to each other, all the pain and anguish, all the love and longing over the years, and he let everything go. Arthur was finally here, finally with him, and no matter what, they were together.

Arthur looked back, giving him a little grin before tugging him toward the bed.

It felt so good, it felt like paradise, it felt like coming home.

At long last.

And if the card lay on the floor, chiming out a Christmas tune, well, Merlin and Arthur didn’t notice.

It was a Merry Christmas indeed.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
